


If I Think Too Hard I Might Lose My Mind

by ignorethyneighbour



Series: Aftermath Of The Miguel Incident [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bit of Fluff, Clubbing, Derek's POV, Explicit Sexual Content, False Identity, M/M, Male Slash, Mating, Sex, Smut, Stiles is under 21, Underage Drinking, Werewolf Intoxication, lots of manpain, mate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 13,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignorethyneighbour/pseuds/ignorethyneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>So what the fuck do I do now?</em> he asks himself, because fuck, it was a long time since he had any time of his own to do whatever he pleases with. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He doesn’t have any friends he can call (well he could call Stiles, but <em>ugh</em>, he doesn’t want to deal with pack right now), no family except Peter, and Peter isn’t really sociable, and <em>nope, not gonna do that.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>I just want to step away from all the trouble and all the worry and not be Werewolf Hale right now.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That’s what he wants. To be someone else, just for the night.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a crackfic at first, but then it got kind of long, and I came up with more plot, so... I just went with it. It's the first fic I've written for the Teen Wolf fandom.
> 
> Title is from Next Girl by The Black Keys.
> 
> I hope you like it! :)

Derek slams the door to the Hale House, right in Isaac and Scott’s faces. 

_Please, just leave already_ , he thinks, deliberately breathing loud and angrily in the hopes that they will catch a hint. 

“Derek-” he can hear Scott’s voice through new, thick door. 

He slams the door open again, teeth showing, and growls, “What. Is. It. Now.” 

Both Isaac and Scott stares with wide eyes at him and unconsciously backs away a few steps from the door. 

“It’s just-” Scott begins, already recovered from the small shock and now seemingly oblivious of Derek’s bad mood, but Isaac interrupts him. 

“We were just leaving,” he says and quickly turns around on the porch, tugging at Scott’s shirtsleeve to get him to follow.

“But-” Scott protests, but when he sees the look on Isaac’s face, he huffs out a quiet “Okay,” and follows him.

 

Derek stands in the doorway, looking after them as they walk down the gravel road from the house. He hears them mounting their bikes, and leaving. 

_Finally._  

Derek closes the door and walks the few steps to the newly bought couch in the living room and throws himself on it. 

It’s been a rough week. A rough month. A rough year, and, admittedly, the years before that wasn’t exactly peachy either. But this _shit_ he has to put up with. 

 

It has been almost a year since he became the Alpha of the Beacon Hills pack. In the beginning, of course, there hadn’t been a pack to speak of. Just him and a reluctant Scott. Derek had been struggling with the new instincts being an Alpha brought with it, the instinct of making your pack stable and strong. The pack at the time was neither stable, nor strong, and it drove Derek crazy. It was just a matter of time before he simply _had_ to turn someone. In retrospect, he is pretty proud of the choices he made of whom to turn. Erica, Boyd and Isaac were miserable before he gave them the Bite. In the days after he’d turned them, he had been full of conflicting thoughts and feelings: guilt, pride, anxiety, hope, hopelessness, anger, impatience, contempt, satisfaction. Irritation. 

Derek catches himself baring his teeth where he’s lying on the pillows on the couch. While it had been a relief to finally have some more or less obedient, loyal wolves in the pack, they really could be a pain in the ass. They were _often_ pains in the ass. He really didn’t take into the equation that a bitten wolf is almost totally oblivious to all wolf etiquette that comes naturally to a born one before he turned them. Also, they had no control over themselves what so ever. Scott was the same, only that he was also reluctant to accept his help with learning how to do things. 

 

Today, they had practiced, as usual. And Derek had tried to teach them what he always tries to teach them: control and manners. As always, they had seem to understand, and as always, they would have forgotten tomorrow. There was progress, sure, but it was painfully slow. 

 

Derek rolls over to the other side, facing the back of the couch, and relaxes his fists. 

_Finally._

He wouldn’t see his pack until monday, and today was saturday. Isaac, Erica and Boyd was going to see some concert, and Scott was out with Allison in a lodge owned by the Argents. Stiles had mumbled something about spending the weekend with his father, but Derek knew that Sheriff Stilinski would be on patrol most of the time, since one of his deputies had just gone on maternity leave. Stiles would probably spend the weekend on his computer. He’d talked a lot about a Halo recently, and Derek guessed it had to do with some video game. 

Stiles. He was one of Derek’s concerns, too. He had always been in a kind of package deal with Scott. At first, it had infuriated Derek, but that was before he discovered Stiles’ researching skills, and before he discovered that Stiles was actually the only one he really knew that had an idea of what would make problems easier to deal with. Stiles was the one who insisted that Scott would re-join training again after he quit, he was the one that protested when Derek had awful ideas and no one else would confront him about it. Stiles was an important part of the pack, and yet he wasn’t really _in_ the pack. He smelt like pack, but he didn’t smell like wolf, and wolf was one of the most important parts of the pack-smell. He smelt strange, but like home at the same time. And it was incredible that he put up with Derek pushing him around all the time. 

_Whatever_ , Derek interrupts his train of thought and rises from the couch. He takes a big leap up the stairs because he can and because people think it’s cool. It’s taken a lot of practice to be able to do that, but it’s all worth it every time he does it in front of someone and sees the awed looks on their faces. 

 

He walks into the room he calls his, and stares into the slightly cracked mirror that hangs on the wall. 

_So what the fuck do I do now?_ he asks himself, because fuck, it was a long time since he had any time of his own to do whatever he pleases with. 

He doesn’t have any friends he can call (well he could call Stiles, but _ugh_ , he doesn’t want to deal with pack right now), no family except Peter, and Peter isn’t really sociable, and _nope, not gonna do that._

_I just want to step away from all the trouble and all the worry and not be Werewolf Hale right now._

That’s what he wants. To be someone else, just for the night.

 

Derek walks determinedly towards his dresser and opens the top drawer. Everything in there is black. Derek roots around until he finds something that he knows isn’t. It’s not really his shirt, he’s just not bothered to return it to it’s owner after he washed it. It’s striped, blue and orange, with three buttons in the front. _Oh god, here we go._


	2. Chapter 2

Derek feels totally liberated after putting Stiles’ shirt on. It’s really tight, but he has to admit he still looks kind of good in it. At least it shows off his muscle. He spins around, looking at himself in the mirror. This really isn’t something he normally does, but that was the whole point of this, wasn’t it? And he looks hot.

Derek smirks. He watches the reflection of his own face, and decides that he looks flirty. That’s something he haven’t seen in a while. 

_I might as well,_ he thinks, puts on a clean pair of pants and a new pair of socks. Then he walks downstairs, chooses his nicest shoes, picks up his wallet and the car keys, and leaves in his Camaro. 

 

Derek drives for over two hours. He isn’t planning on driving home tonight; he will just sleep in the car. It’s saturday, and it’s getting dark outside the windows. He isn’t Derek Hale, the werewolf Alpha, tonight. He’s someone careless, trouble free, liberated. Adventurous, he decides to add to the list. _Adventurous and... exotic?_

 

He has now drove trough two cities other than Beacon Hills, and decides that it's far enough. If he’s going to be someone else, he doesn’t want to meet people that know him. Derek pulls in to the main road of the town from the motorway, and slows down. He watches as neon signs move past him, all trying to lure him in to restaurants, bars, liquor stores and clubs. It’s a quite big city, much larger than Beacon Hills. Unspoken for by werewolves, due to a spell once cast by a coven, that makes the water undrinkable for magical creatures. So there won’t be any wolf-y trouble, as long as he sticks to other drinks than water. 

 

Derek pulls the Camaro up in front of a club named The Cue, that has a crowded terrace outside. He parks his car, and walks straight to the front of the line at the entrance. He can feel the eyes on his back, and doesn’t wonder why no one protests. He has that effect on people.

“Hello,” the bouncer says, “Are you on the list?”

_Shit, fuck, why didn’t I think of that?_ Derek panics in his own head, but blurts out a “Yes.”

“In what name?”

Even more panic, but not even a flinch on the outside. _Don’t think just say something this is going to be awkward-_

“Miguel.”

The bouncer looks down on his list, and Derek wants to punch himself repeatedly in the face for his own stupidity. Preferably breaking his own nose in the process. Of course there won’t be a fucking _Miguel_ on the list, what was he thinking?

It’s only a couple of seconds before the bouncer lifts his eyes from the list again and smiles at Derek.

“Welcome, Miguel, right this way...” Derek can’t believe his luck as the bouncer leaves his list to one of the guards and leads him into the club. 

 

The place is big, with several dance floors and bars, but Derek (or _Miguel,_ _what the fuck_?) walks out to the terrace and sits down at the bar there. His instinct tells him to keep up the broody staring the whole night, but this new Miguel-person has other ideas. 

“A beer, please”, he says to the bar tender in a way that is more civil than he’s been to anyone in months. 

He gets his beer and takes a sip. It’s good, better than he remembered - but then again, it was a while since he last had one. 

“Do you mind if I sit?” Derek turns around from his beer and sees a man standing on his left. 

“No, not at all”, he answers and forces the smile on his lips to look more genuine. It’s hard when you don’t smile a lot. 

The man is quite short, at least six inches shorter than Derek. He is tan, and has dark and curly hair around a playful face with black eyes. He is dressed in a shirt and a dark pair of jeans that both fits loosely, hiding that his body is actually kind of lanky. 

The man sits down beside him, orders a Gin Tonic and turns his face to Derek.

“I haven’t seen you here before. What’s your name?” 

“Miguel”, Derek says without thinking, but then decides that he might as well go all the way with this. 

“Really?” The man looks surprised, so Derek nods quietly and tries a little smile. 

“Me too! What a coincident!” 

Miguel starts to talk about his name (a family name, he is the fifth one in the family with it), his job, his flat, his friends, his dog. His lack of boyfriend. 

It’s quickly getting very clear what Miguel’s intentions are. At first, Derek closes himself to the idea, because this isn’t something he would do. Ever. But, then he realizes that it might be what Miguel would do. Derek-Miguel.

After a while, Derek eases himself into it, leaning his body more and more in Miguel’s direction while he makes up stories about Derek-Miguel’s life. His job, his flat, his friends. His lack of boyfriend. 

 

“Let’s go dancing”, Derek tells Miguel when they have both had a couple of drinks and a few shots more. He takes Miguel’s hand and drags him off the stool. 

When they reach the dance floor, Derek notices that Miguel is far more intoxicated than he is, but even with Derek’s werewolf metabolism, he can feel the alcohol dimming his senses. It’s only going to last a short period of time, but for now, Derek plans on making the most of it.

They dance, they smile, and they scream along to the lyrics of the song. They put their arms around each other’s shoulders, on other people’s shoulders, they get lost in the flowing movement of bodies. Derek is dancing with two girls in bright green dresses when Miguel pats him on the shoulder and waves at him to follow. When they are far enough from the speakers, Miguel says “My friends just got here, I was thinking we’d go talk to them?” 

Derek nods, and follows him to a hallway leading away from the main area. He hears laughing and talking, guessing that there are about twenty people in the room on the other side. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Miguel asks Derek as they pass a man in an apron at the entrance of the room.

“Yeah, a... whatever you’ll take will be fine.”

Miguel nods at the waiter, who nods back and leaves.

“You’re a regular, I see”, Derek remarks.

“Yeah, I guess I am. I’m always on the list.”

_Well, that explains it_ , Derek thinks.

Derek follows Miguel into the room, and takes in the faces in it as they are welcomed with cheers from everywhere. Miguel happily yells back at them and rises his arms as if he’s won a competition. 

When the room quiets a bit, Miguel turns to Derek and presents him.

“This is Miguel!”

Everybody in the room begins to greet him but one person, who huffs out a loud laugh. 

“ _Miguel?_ ”

Stiles. Stiles is sitting at the table. 

“Nice shirt”, Stiles says, clearly trying not to explode of laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

To Derek’s annoyance, the only empty spots at the table are opposite Stiles, and that’s were Miguel is leading them. 

“I’ve ordered a round of shots for everyone!” Miguel reveals to the table as he sits down, and gets an appreciative applause for it.

He then discovers the tension between Derek and Stiles. 

“Have you met before?” he asks them.

Stiles and Derek sits quietly for a moment, Stiles’ mouth slowly forming a mischievous grin.

“No”, Derek says at the same time as Stiles says “Yes!”

Miguel stares wondering at them both.

They are saved by the waiter, arriving with the tray of shots. Derek thankfully grabs one, downs it, grabs another and puts it at the table in front of him. Stiles takes one, but doesn’t drink it. 

“So, what have you been up to tonight, _Miguel_ ** _s_**?” Stiles looks at Derek.

“Well, we just met tonight, didn’t we, Miguel?” Miguel also looks at Derek, who has now gone back to his usual grumpy staring. 

“Yes”, he grunts, deciding to take his grumpiness up a notch. 

Miguel doesn’t notice, he just gives Stiles a recap of everything they’ve done.

_I’m never going to hear the end of this_ , Derek thinks, and angrily stares at Stiles. Stiles calmly meets his gaze, and Derek thinks he can see a question in his eyes. Stiles looks back at Miguel, who is still talking, so Derek can’t make sure. 

When Miguel is finished speaking, and is listening to somebody else saying something Derek can’t focus on, Stiles meets his eyes again and mouths “Can we talk?”. 

Derek and Stiles both rises from their chairs and starts walking away from the table. 

“Derek, Miguel, where are you going?” Miguel yells after them when he notices.

“Just going out for a smoke”, Stiles replies and keeps on walking. 

 

Behind the club, in the back yard, there's far less people than inside and on the terrace. When they’ve come out of earshot from most of them, Derek stops Stiles.

“ _Derek?_ ” he asks, both annoyed and amused.

“ _Miguel_?” Stiles retorts, beyond amused. 

They glare at each other a few seconds before Stiles reaches into his pocket and picks his wallet up. From the wallet he presents a fake-ID with his picture, but with the name Derek Rogers on it. 

“Derek.” he concludes. “So what’s your excuse?” 

Derek huffs. 

“It’s the shirt, isn’t it?” Stiles asks when Derek doesn’t say anything. 

“Yeah,” Derek replies. “I just used the first name that came to mind.”

“And then you get stuck with it, yeah. I know how it is.”

They get quiet after that, until Stiles adds “It looks good on you, Miguel”, and giggles. 

Derek stares at him with eyes he hopes are murderous. 

“You wanted to talk?” he grunts, thinking that it really must be something important, since Stiles has been quiet for several seconds now. He never does that. 

“Yeah...” Stiles says, and flushes a bit, only just perceptible to Derek’s numbed werewolf senses. “About the reason I’m here, actually.” 

He stills again, looking down at his feet. Derek huffs impatiently to make him continue.

“You might have noticed... Or you might not, but whatever- that... I’m...” Stiles trails off, takes a deep breath, and seems to decide that whatever it is he is about to say is better to get off his chest than to keep to himself. 

“I’m not exactly, strictly speaking, ehm... _heterosexual_. But I’m really _really not_ ready for anyone to find out yet, so if you could... like, not tell anyone, that’d be great?” 

Derek just looks at him for a while. _Wow_ , he thinks. _I did NOT see that one coming_. 

“Okay,” he says. “Of course not. In exchange for you-”

“Not telling anybody either. Right”, Stiles finishes for him. 

“Yeah”, Derek nods. 

“About the whole Miguel-thing.” Stiles continues. “What _is_ the whole Miguel-thing, anyway?”

Derek blinks stupidly at him.

“I mean, not why you call yourself by the name I gave you as my fake-cousin, but you know, I mean, the what-are-you-doing-here-thing?”

“Oh,” Derek lets out. “I... am really tired. Of everything. I just...” 

“Wanted to party your ass off and not think about everything? Be someone else and feel accepted for who you are and not need to hide anything?” Stiles looks him in the eyes. “I get it.” 

Derek exhales slowly, feeling strangely good about being understood by someone that almost knows him inside out.

“Well, I can’t imagine you’re going about here telling everybody about your wolfiness, but at least you don’t have to deal with it. Because of the water and everything.”

“You know about that?” Derek asks surprisedly.

Stiles gives him a bright smile and gestures for Derek to follow him inside again. 

“I did my research. Did you think I would dare to go _anywhere_ after getting to know about everything freaky that hides in the dark without having at least a few cards up my sleeve?”

Derek lands him a glare that says _Yes you totally would, you’re a total jackass idiot moron._

Stiles sees it, and grins. 

“Yes, I totally would, but I didn’t want anybody to know, so I made sure I would be able to protect myself. I’ve looked into spells that will activate the water to do more than it already does, which itself is enough for most mythical creatures to stay away. Not only undrinkable for werewolves, you see.” Stiles pauses for a moment. “It _would_ suck _so hard_ to be killed somewhere alone and know that you guys would find out why I’m here and think that _Oh why didn’t he want to tell us about his_ -”

Stiles abruptly stops talking, realizing that he probably should shut the fuck up before he _is_ killed by a mythical creature. He glances at Derek, who just slumps his shoulders in a _Whatever_ way, but also in a _I totally get where you’re coming from_ , and _It’s okay_ way. 

Stiles sighs in relief and walks the last steps back in to the club. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Stiles and Derek enters The Cue again, Miguel and his friends are on the dance floor. They're jumping around, shouting and dancing ecstatically. When Miguel spots Derek, he approaches him and Stiles. Miguel eyes them, and whatever he was looking for, he seems satisfied and throws a quick wave at someone through the crowd before he grabs Derek’s hand and drags him in to dance. Stiles meets Derek’s eyes with a meaning look, and Derek shrugs. _Just dance_. 

The waving Miguel did proved to be an order to a waiter, because only minutes later, both Derek and Stiles finds their hands occupied with drinks.

“It’s on me!” Miguel yells over the music and smiles at them.

 

It’s starting to look like a really pleasant night. Derek is slowly relaxing in the knowledge that Stiles is here. It feels less and less awkward, which really could be due to the increasing amounts of alcohol in his blood, but whatever. 

Miguel is still all over him, and Derek surprises himself with actually feeling flattered instead of wanting to distance himself. Sure, Miguel isn’t his type, really, but Derek is Miguel now. Derek-Miguel might be into guys like Miguel-Miguel. They dance, and dance, and slowly the dance transforms into some kind of grinding. Derek feels his heart-rate rise, because _Fuck, it was a long time since I last did anything like this_. 

Miguel puts a hand around Derek’s neck and pulls him closer, and Derek lets him. He even tilts his head up slightly, to show his consent. 

 

Miguel’s lips are soft. Derek doesn’t know if that was what he expected or not; he didn’t really think about it when he first saw him. It feels nice, better than he would imagine it feels for Miguel with all Derek’s stubble up in his face. Miguel doesn’t complain, though, so Derek supposes he’s okay with it. 

Derek puts his arm around Miguel’s back, just to see what that would do to this. It makes them stop dancing, but it also makes the kiss deepen. Derek feels teeth bite down on his lower lip, tryingly. He huffs, tightens his arm around Miguel’s back. He _might_ have made it slide down a couple of inches, too. Miguel responds immediately, sucking at Derek’s lip, and then releasing it. He slowly takes his mouth away from Derek’s, then sliding down to put it at Derek’s neck. Licking it.

The wolf in Derek protests: the neck is a sensitive spot. _Miguel is not in the position to do anything with it. He’s not pack. He’s not trusted._

Derek quickly drags Miguel back up to his mouth. The wolf backs off, pleased when the threat to it’s authority is gone. 

_This is only a one time thing,_ Derek reminds himself. _It can’t last. I don’t even want it to last, really._ Because he doesn’t. Derek doesn’t want to be with someone like Miguel, or anybody at all at the moment. This is Derek-Miguel acting. 

 

The lights are turned on hours later. At four. Derek sobered up in the last half hour, werewolf metabolism and all, but he doesn’t think he will manage the drive home. Neither does he want to go home with Miguel, because when the buzz faded, there wasn’t much attraction left. 

“Do you have a car?” Stiles asks him, appearing out of nowhere.

“Yeah. The Camaro”, Derek grunts.

Stiles glances at him.

“Wolfy metabolism already got you into the hangover-phase?” he asks with a smirk.

Derek just snarls at him, but then he, too, smirks. 

“I understand it you don’t want to follow Miguel home? Good choice, his apartment really isn’t as great as he makes it sound.” Stiles laughs. “I have a tent in my truck. You can use that, or the truck. I imagine either one of them is more comfortable than sleeping in that shoebox of a car. Sorry, no offense.”

“Thanks”, Derek says, and follows Stiles to where he’s parked his truck. 


	5. Chapter 5

In the morning, Derek wakes up from the sun entering the windshield of Stiles’ truck. His headache is gone, but he feels kind of dehydrated, and _Shit, I can’t drink the water here_.

He decides to get some breakfast from the 24/7-shop he remembers seeing on the way here. 

When he comes back, Stiles is awake, packing away the tent and sleeping bag he was sleeping in. 

“I got us breakfast”, Derek grunts, opens the bag he’s carrying and sits down on a rock besides Stiles. 

“Thanks,” Stiles says, astonished, as Derek throws him a sandwich. “So...” Stiles stops and takes a bite of it. “So you... I didn’t know... Did you.. Are? But you? ‘ve had??? Too??” Stiles looks both embarrassed and incredibly curious at the same time. “Bi?”

Derek almost chokes on his sandwich, because he really haven’t thought about that. When he gets his breath back, he sighs.

“I... guess?”

“Yeah, I would guess that too if I were you. Considering recent events and the not-so recent events and the whole... thing with... yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. The deal goes both ways. You _do_ remember, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

 

Derek and Stiles drive home in separate cars after breakfast. When Derek gets home, he immediately runs up the stairs and into the shower. Sleeping a night in the same clothes you’ve partied an evening in isn’t very pleasant. And he smells a lot like Miguel. And a bit of Stiles’ truck, but that he can live with. 

Derek turns the faucets on, and feels the water splash down on his shoulders. He inhales deeply before he turns to face the shower head. The warm water on his face feels amazing. It was perhaps the part of the renovation of the house, what mattered most to him: the bathroom. It made it feel like a home more than anything. Even more than the kitchen. He doesn’t really cook, anyway. 

Derek reaches for the soap and starts to lather himself in, from head to toe. Once he’s done that, and the soap is running off him and down the drain, he shifts. 

_If this isn’t luxury, then what is?_

He does the full shift. Fully wolfed out, he feels the water run through his fur. He’d made sure when he renovated that he would have enough room to shift in the shower cabin. 

Derek turns and stretches as the water keeps pouring down on him. If he could, he would start purring like a cat. 

 

Derek is still a bit shocked, to be honest, with the realization he had this morning. Or rather, the realization _Stiles_ had for him. He thought about it all the way home, and came to the conclusion that _Fuck it, it was nice, and it’s not like it matters._ Derek has never thought of anyone else in a lesser way for being something other than heterosexual, and he’s not going to just because that person is himself. He _was,_ however, surprised that Stiles outed himself to Derek, but only because, well, he hadn’t really considered Stiles sexual at all. A romantic, sure, but not...

Derek stands on his hind legs and puts his paws on the faucet to turn it off. When the water stops, he shakes off the water in his fur and shifts back to human form. 

 

Derek dreads Monday, because he thinks it will be awkward to see Stiles again after getting to know a side of him that he hasn’t known about before. Not the _not heterosexual_ part, whatever that means, but the _Hey, I’ve got a hidden life, and I’m a party animal on the weekends when I’m alone_ -thing. 

It is awkward, but only to Derek. Stiles seems to bee in a good mood, like he has blown off a lot of steam during the weekend. When Scott asks him, he just replies with “Lots of beauty-sleep, man. Lots of it.”

The pack gets to practicing, and actually makes some progress, which pleases Derek. Not back on square one this time. 

 

The week goes by quickly, and Derek is calmer than usual. He feels more relaxed than he’s done in a long time, and he thinks the pack notices. He gets a long and thoughtful stare from Boyd, and quickly yells at Erica to do better. Boyd seems to let it go. 

When Friday arrives, and Isaac starts asking the pack what is on for the weekend. Most of them are planning on hanging out at Scott’s house, maybe rent a movie or two. 

“Sorry, I can’t join you,” Stiles says when Scott asks him if he’s coming. “I’m going to see my friend, Miguel.” He looks up at Derek. “What about you?”

Derek huffs. “We’ll see.”

“Oh, come on!” Erica exclaims.

“Something happened. I might have to deal with it”, Derek explains evasively.

“What? We’ll help you!” Scott offers.

“No,” Derek says, a little too fast. “It’s... there’s nothing you can do.”

 

When the pack has left, Derek’s phone buzzes. The message is from Stiles.

 

_U kno theyr gonna follow u if theyr worried right?_

 

_No, they’ll hang out, it’s fine_. Derek replies.

 

_If u say so. R u going to teh cue again?_

 

Derek has actually been longing to go there all week. It did him well to get away from everything and not think of all his troubles, but then, there it is. Does he want to see Miguel one more time, and get further involved?

His phone buzzes again. 

 

_U seemed 2 like it_

 

Derek gives in. 

 

_Yeah. I think I will._

 

_Gr9! We should totes drive 2gether to save gas. U cant sleep in ur camaro anyway_

 

Derek sighs. Two hours in a car alone with Stiles? He was going to die from the chatter. He replies with an _ok,_ and throws his phone on the couch.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles comes up with the idea that they will meet at the motel just out of town instead of at the Hale House. That way Derek’s car won’t be there for the pack to find, and they won’t smell Stiles having been there. The motel is also a great spot, because Derek can leave his car at the parking lot, and it won’t look suspicious (almost) and it’ll most probably still be there when he gets back. 

Derek gets to the motel, parks his car, and starts walking along the road, so Stiles can pick him up. 

“Heyy!” Stiles greets him as he pulls to the side of the road and opens the door for Derek. 

“Hey”, Derek grunts. He’s already starting to get cold feet about the two hours with Stiles. 

It turns out to be okay, though. Stiles doesn’t bring anything they talked about in the club up, and neither does Derek. As usual, Derek is the quieter one as Stiles blabbers away. 

 

Derek is surprised when they turn onto the main road of the town; the two hour drive passed quicker than he had expected. It isn’t that bad after all, listening to Stiles. Stiles continues on the main road until he pulls into the same parking lot he parked in last weekend. 

“You wanna arrive alone, or is it okay to walk together?” Stiles asks with a bit of an edge in his voice.

Derek slumps his shoulder and starts walking, letting Stiles interpret it as he pleases. 

“Last time, you said you were Miguel at the door, huh?” Stiles looks at Derek. “I don’t think that’s going to work this time. Last week the usual bouncer wasn’t there, but I bet he is tonight. He knows Miguel.”

Derek flinches. He really hadn’t thought of that. 

“So I’ll stand in line, I guess?” he grunts.

“Naah, I’ll take care of it. He knows me too.”

Stiles walks past Derek and brings him to the front of the line by the sleeve of his shirt.

“Heyyy, man, Conrad, what’s up?” Stiles fist bumps the tall, muscular man standing just inside the ropes. 

“Great, man, it’s gonna be a busy night. Paychecks rolling in all over town, this week.”

“Yeah, as usual, then!” Conrad and Stiles laughs at something that must be a private joke, because Derek really doesn’t get it. He just stands behind Stiles, pending.

“Miguel and the others are already in, you should probably join them”, Conrad says and guides Stiles inside the ropes with a hand on his shoulder, effectively shutting Derek out. 

“Speaking of the devil, this is Miguel!” Stiles quickly says as he spins around to include Derek.

Conrad raises an eyebrow.

“Miguel and Miguel, isn’t that something to tell your grandchildren?”

Conrad raises the other eyebrow too. 

“Yeah,” Stiles continues, “I guess you weren’t here last Saturday, or you would have seen it too. Quite hard to avoid noticing. They were all over the place.”

Derek feels how he blushes, and glares at Stiles. _Was this really necessary?_

At that, Conrad nods knowingly and laughs in a way that is way too giggly to come from a man his size and calibre. 

“I should have guessed. It’s like him,” he lets Derek in, too. “You have a nice evening. I’ll see you around!”

 

Stiles takes Derek straight to the bar, where he just nods at the bar tender and puts up two fingers in the air. Almost immediately, they get a shot each, but no bill. Stiles looks over at Derek and says “They know I’m with Miguel. Miguel’s loaded. I always do this before I go in there. It starts the party for you.”

Derek mimics Stiles as he empties the small glass in one gulp. He can feel the pleasant burning sensation in his throat, slowly spreading its way through his body. 

“So,” Derek says after a while. “You and Miguel? Are you... close? Should I...? Have you...?”

Stiles looks a bit awkward, but shakes his head. 

“No. Not... anymore, at least. We’re friends. Have been for a long time.”

Derek had kind of hoped for an excuse to stay away from Miguel. _This is awful._  

“So... who?” 

Stiles snorts amusedly at Derek's vague gestures.

“Depends”, he says with a grin. 


	7. Chapter 7

When Derek is starting to really feel the effect of the alcohol, Stiles gestures at him to follow. They go to the private room they were in last week. 

Miguel and the rest of the gang greets them almost as loudly as they’d greeted Miguel. 

They sit at the table and talks and laughs for hours before they all go out on the dance floor. It’s a crazy night, and Derek does his best to avoid Miguel without acting weird. He laughs at his jokes, he joins in all his crazy dance moves, he puts his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. But when Miguel leans in for a kiss, Derek suddenly gets very occupied with his phone. Except when he doesn’t have any excuses left. Then he kisses Miguel back, and it’s awesome. 

_Maybe I should really be with someone I don’t feel anything for. It’s so easy to keep myself under control._

Derek doesn’t have to worry the least about wolfing out in front of everybody, as long as he keeps Miguel away from his neck. It’s not like Derek, but just this once, he considers to just take the easy option, even if it doesn’t feel one hundred percent right. 

A few minutes later, Miguel’s phone rings. Miguel looks at it, and sighs. 

“Sorry. I’ve got to take that.” He smiles apologetically and walks towards the private room, leaving Derek with the others. 

Derek hasn’t seen Stiles in a while, so he figures he’ll go find him. He forces a smile towards the group, and then leaves. After sweeping with his eyes around the venue, he walks out to the back yard. He sniffs the air, and feels Stiles’ scent coming floating towards him through the air. The place is almost void of people, but there are lots of trees and bushes obstructing the view. 

Stiles’ scent is nice. Familiar, safe. It’s the usual one, but it has an edge to it that Derek hasn’t smelt before. He can feel the wolf in him suck it in like it’s a drug, and, honestly, the human in him is, too. 

 

Derek walks around the closest bush, where he can hear someone moving around. It’s Stiles. With a man Derek has never seen before. 

Derek stops thinking. Stops breathing. Starts growling. 

Stiles jerks up, looking at him in horror, quickly pulling the other man’s pants up.

“ _Derek!_ ” he shouts. 

The man looks very drunk, and hopefully too out of it to realize what’s happening. 

Stiles is looking angry, but Derek can’t concentrate on that right now. He can’t concentrate on anything but trying to keep himself from shifting. He’s so _confused_. 

Derek just stands there, breathing heavily with eyes wide open, staring at Stiles and closing his hands into fists so hard that his palms are pierced by the claws erupting at his nails. He knows his eyes are red, so he closes them, and collects every ounce of strength he has to turn around and walk away. 

Derek walks back into the club, past Miguel, grunting a “ _I. Have. To. Go._ ” before he gets out on the street.

He can’t take the car, Stiles won’t be able to get home. _Stiles_. 

_What the fuck happened? What is this?_

Derek still can’t think properly. He shifts as soon as he is out of sight from anyone, and starts running.


	8. Chapter 8

When he wakes up in his bed, it’s past lunchtime, and he still can’t set words to what it was that happened. He’d run all the way home from the club, and then some, and when he'd gotten back he had collapsed in bed. Derek’s head throbs, and he knows it’s not from the alcohol. His whole body aches. He knows he has got to figure this shit out, but he can’t think about it without growling and baring his teeth.

Derek decides that he can sleep a bit longer. 

 

When he wakes up again, he feels a little better. At least physically. He takes a shower, but doesn’t shift, he brushes his teeth, he makes himself breakfast. The sun is already setting, but whatever. It still counts as breakfast. 

Derek finds his phone at the kitchen table. He must have thrown it there when he came home. There are nine missed calls and twelve texts. 

 

_DUDE!?!??!_

 

_What the fuck?!???!?!_

 

_What just happened??!?!?_

 

_Pick up the goddamn phone_

 

_WHERE R U??!?_

 

_Derek, I swear 2 god, if uve taken my car, Im going 2 kill u_

 

_Im probably gonna kill u anyway_

 

_THANK GOD DEREK_

 

_still gon kill u_

 

_DEREK_

 

_UR SUCH AN ASSHOLE_

 

_Whatever._

 

Derek sighs and puts his phone away as far from himself as he can without rising from the table. He just can’t deal with this right now. _He_ doesn’t even know what happened, how could he explain to _Stiles_ what happened?

Feeling his heart starting to beat faster and faster from just thinking about last night, he realizes that he’s got to do something about this. There is a tiny voice in Derek’s head telling him that he actually knows damn well what has happened, he just won’t admit it to himself.

_It begun when I found Stiles._

Or, rather, it had begun when he figured out what Stiles was doing. _Who_ he was doing. Well, technically he doesn’t know who the guy was, and really couldn’t care less, because _fuck_ , it wasn’t him, and _Fuck why am I jealous?_

Derek feels like someone has kicked him in the guts, and doesn’t even fight the urge to run up to his bedroom and hide, leaving what's left of the food out on the table. 

Derek crawls in under the covers and shuts himself from the rest of the world. It feels good, being somewhere small, safe, warm. He catches himself wishing that Stiles could be there and hold him. 

_Shit. I’m in love with him._

It's a really sudden realization, totally out of the blue. It’s not far from the truth, Derek knows. It must be some kind of werewolf instinct, probably related to the things Derek was told about Mates when his dad had given him The Talk. It would make sense. 

_“A mate isn’t something you can choose. It’s something you just know. In here”_ , Derek’s father had said and put his hand over Derek’s heart. _“It can be another wolf, or a human. It doesn’t matter. When I found your mother... I knew it was her. And she knew it was me.”_

Derek winces. He can’t go ask his father about this. He'd always thought he would be able to, if he ever needed it. 

_Is Stiles my mate?_ Derek asks himself. The answer is pretty obvious. To him, at least. Derek thinks of the angry texts he’d gotten from Stiles. He seemed oblivious. Maybe humans can’t feel it? Both his mother and father had been werewolves when they’d met. And, Derek realizes with a stab in his chest, if Stiles doesn’t feel it, what will happen? Nothing, probably, and that will most likely be the worst thing that has happened to Derek. What will he do if he scares Stiles away? What if Derek tells him, and he declines? And if he doesn’t tell him, how will Derek be able to see Stiles every day, and know that he can never have him?

Derek whines under the cover. As much as he likes to pretend that he is a big, tough alpha, he just wants to die sometimes. 

 

Monday arrives, and as soon as school is over, Derek knows that he’ll have to deal with the pack. He’s barely slept since he had his breakfast, just paced through the empty house, and has actually been _crying_.

When he hears the cars coming from the main road, he tries to collect himself, but it’s hard. The only thing that is likely to free him from suspicion from his pack is to go with the usual grumpy-face, so he does. And maybe he overdoes it a bit, but if that’s the only way he’s not going to start crying again, hey, what can he do about it?

 

It’s Erica who says “Hey, what’s happened to you, grumpy cat? Someone’s peed in your boots?”

_I wish,_ Derek thinks as he glares and pushes past her though the door. The whole pack is standing outside, waiting for him, including Allison. And Stiles. 

_Stiles._ Derek instinctively pushes down the smile he feels creeping up in his face. It’s going to be awkward enough without him looking like a possessive stalker. _Oh my god, Stiles is here he came he doesn’t hate me (!!!)_

Derek abruptly stops the ranting in his mind when he sees Stiles’ face. It’s almost blank. Stiles’ face is only blank when he is either really upset or really pissed off. 

 

The others doesn’t seem to notice anything, so Derek absently huffs out orders of a chase.  Everybody participates. Half of them hunts, the rest runs. The humans get a head start of ten minutes before the wolfs can set off. 

It’s one and a half hour until they find the last runner, Boyd. That’s a new record for him, and Derek can tell he’s really pleased with himself. Derek praises him for his achievement, and sends everybody home before he quickly flees into the house, locking the door behind him. 

When he hears everybody leave, he can swear he hears Stiles mutter _“Fucker”_ , under his breath. He could howl in pain at that, but manages to suppress it into a quiet whine. 

“Fucking scissors”, he humphs, in case any of the werewolves heard him.


	9. Chapter 9

When the last car and Isaac on bike has left the gravel road that leads up to the house, Derek rushes up to his bed again. This couldn’t have gone worse. (Or, actually it could, but Derek really doesn’t want to think about it.) Stiles hates him. His fucking _Mate_ , his _destined partner_ , hates him. 

Derek cries out, whines, shifts into the wolf in hope of finding it easier to cope as an animal than a human. The wolf is just as hurt as he is, though, so he runs again. The opposite direction of where he thinks Stiles is. He runs and runs, long past the sunset. He doesn’t stop, then, but he stops running to get away, and starts running just for the sake of running. 

He isn’t ready for it when he crosses the path of Stiles’ scent. His mind goes blank, and he howls. Lone wolves howl to find their partners. Derek feels more lonely than he ever has, even when he didn’t have his pack. He howls and howls, and can feel his own calls cut through his bones, and he knows that if Stiles can even hear them, he doesn’t know what they mean. And that kills Derek.

 

Derek runs all night, and a big part of the following day. It’s only the obligations to his pack that makes him turn back home to the Hale House. Derek is tired, hasn’t slept or eaten in almost two days, and when he arrives, the pack is already there. 

 

It’s only Allison that seems to be her usual, happy self. The wolves looks tired and melancholic, and Stiles sports that blank face he wore yesterday, spiced up with a bit of irritation. He makes a big deal out of not looking into Derek’s eyes, just as Derek makes a big deal out of not looking at him when he can see it. And generally avoiding standing close to him. 

“I don’t know what’s up with these guys, they’ve been like this all day”, Allison says merrily. “It’s like they’ve had a collective bad dream or something. You don’t look too good yourself, Derek, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Derek just grunts, because it’s no idea denying it. He looks like crap. He feels like crap, too.

 

He is easy on the pack, today. Mostly because he doesn’t have the strength to yell at them. After a bit of sparring that isn’t rewarding for anyone, he gives up and lets them into the house and orders pizza. The pack sits down in the living room and starts talking. They seem to ease up from the bad mood from just being together. Derek sits quietly and stares at the wall opposite him. He feels like just falling asleep at the spot, but doubts he could. It’s not unusual that he is quiet during these gatherings, so the other’s doesn’t comment on it. It is, however, unlike Stiles being so quiet, and the pack isn’t late to joke about it. Stiles just sends them murderous glares at that.

 

At nine, the pack begins to leave the house. It’s school tomorrow, and none of them had much sleep last night. 

Stiles, however, lingers behind. He follows them out eventually, but before he gets into his car with Scott, Derek can hear him say “I’ve lost my phone, I think it’s inside. You go with Allison, Scott. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Derek hears Scott protest, but he opens Allison’s car and gets in. As the car leaves, Stiles walks towards the house.

_Shit_ , Derek thinks. _What do I do now?_

Stiles opens the door and walks straight towards Derek, phone in his hand. 

“ _What the fuck is this?_ ” he roars.

“A phone.” Derek says, looking at Stiles’ hand, hoping that it will somehow, miraculously, save him from this disaster. 

“You know what I mean. _What happened?_ _Why are you avoiding me?_ ”

Derek swallows and brings down a quiet death-glare at Stiles. He doesn’t back down.

“I can’t do this. You can’t be here.” 

“Why the fuck can’t I be here? Everybody else can, can’t they?”

Derek breaths heavily.

“ _Because I want to mate you._ ”

There it was. He’d said it, it was done. Stiles stills. 

“ _What?_ ”

“I’m avoiding you, because I _need to mate you_.”

Derek is calmed by the marveled look slowly rising in Stiles’ face, and he just breathes it in, relieved.

Stiles’ expression continues changing, though, passing marveled and entering pissed off. 

“You _want_ to _mate me_?”

Derek nods uncertainly. 

“You _fucking want_ to _mate me_? You fucking _need._ To _mate_. _Me_.” Stiles is really angry now. 

“You know, right, that I have a say in this? You may be an alpha, but this is stepping over the line. You have stepped so far past it you’re in fucking _Finland_. You’re not mating me. That’s not happening”, Stiles takes a breath. “That’s what that in The Cue was about, wasn’t it? You, not wanting me to be with _Andrew_. You know what? _You don’t have a say in that. You really don’t_. Back off, I’ll suck _whoever I want_.”

At that, Stiles turns around at the spot and slams the door open. Derek hears his car start a few moments later, but he can’t move to stop him. Can’t stop him, because Derek has no right to. He has no right to do anything but stay away, and it feels like a big hole has appeared in Derek’s stomach, and all his intestines are falling out on the floor. It feels like every bone in his body is broken, aching to heal but breaking again as soon as they try to. It feels like someone has stabbed him in the neck with a rusty dagger, blood spilling down on the floor with each breath.

_It’s done. It’s over. My mate. Stiles._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out to be an angstfest :')

Derek doesn’t cope well. He buys enough spirits to run a nightclub for a month, and buries himself under the covers of his bed. He doesn’t even bother to get a glass, just pours the liquid into his mouth straight from the bottle and prays it will take the pain away. 

It does, for a while, but Derek knows it's not sustainable. Even his werewolf body will be permanently damaged if he keeps tearing it down like this. And, besides, his pack needs him. He is thankful for the Alpha instincts he’s got. He does admit to having a death wish, and he knows that without his pack to care for, there would be nothing to stop him from removing himself from the pain. But for now, the alcohol has to do the trick. 

Derek manages to be almost sober when he sees the pack. Stiles is there at every meeting, but he never speaks to Derek. He still looks furious most of the time. Derek tries to not think of anything but keeping his pack safe and sound. He follows his instincts, teaches them how to be better werewolves, feeds them, makes sure they don’t fall behind at school. That’s the easiest thing to do, even though Stiles is always there. Derek tries to exclude him in his mind when he thinks of the pack, but it’s hard. Stiles _is_ pack. 

 

Everyone seems to notice that Derek is broken. He doesn’t think they know what it was that broke him, but he can see that it affects them. All of them seem more tired than usual. They don’t smile as often, they don’t joke as much. Derek knows that it’s his fault, they can feel his sadness, but he can’t do much about it. 

 

All his spare time, Derek retreats to his bed or runs. He doesn’t eat, because he can’t keep it down anyway. He sleeps only when the blur of the alcohol allows him to. When the weekend arrives, he’s relieved, because he doesn’t have to see everybody. Most of them are having an econ-test Monday morning, and have to study. Allison is going away with her father. 

 

Derek is out running, and it’s past midnight when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He stops, and takes his phone out, in case it’s one of the pack members who’s gotten into trouble and needs his help. 

It’s a photo. From Stiles. Apparently taken at the terrace at The Cue. 

Derek feels his head lighten. Stars are beginning to cover his eyes, and he can’t see, he can’t breathe, he can’t stand, so he falls to the ground. 

_Why?_

The picture had been of Stiles and the other man. Andrew. 

_Why would he do that?_

Derek can’t breathe, and yet he can’t stop breathing. He can’t get enough oxygen, but there is _too much_ oxygen in his blood. He can’t _see_ , and he can’t _move_. Derek just lies on the ground, panting, hyperventilating, shaking. He feels like the whole world is falling down on him, crushing in like waves, burying him deeper and deeper until he can’t even feel the ground under him. The sounds of the forest are screaming in his ears, but it’s all distant. It doesn’t matter. Time passes, and it doesn’t matter. 

 

“It will be okay”, he suddenly hears Allison’s voice saying over him. 

Derek shakes his head, and Allison doesn’t say anything. Instead, she helps him stand, swinging an arm around his waist to help him stay upright. 

“I know something’s wrong,” she says. “The others do too. They just can’t see how bad it is.”

“But you can?” Derek manages to murmur.

“Yeah”, Allison says, simply. 

 

When Allison has gotten him home and into bed, she empties all of his bottles. Derek doesn’t have the strength to protest, but he wishes he could have some so he could sleep. He wonders for a moment how she’d found him, or what she was even doing that far up in the woods, but lets it go. She’s an Argent. They’ve always been strange. Dangerous, and strange. But he trusts Allison. 

Derek is lying in bed, unable to sleep, thinking of everything and nothing for hours. He doesn’t know how many, and eventually he passes out, too exhausted to stay aware of his surroundings and the pain. 

 

He wakes up because his wolf demands it. There are thuds of sound coming from below, and at first, Derek can’t place it. Then he realizes it must be someone banging on the door.

“ _Come on_ ”, he hears a voice grunt. Derek winces. 

He climbs out of bed and silently thanks Allison for leaving his pants and shirt on. He stumbles down the stairs, and puts his hand on the door handle. He breathes heavily, because he knows without a doubt who it is, standing on the other side of the door. And he’s not ready for more hurt. 

 

“Open up, Derek. I know you’re there”, Stiles says in a low voice. 

Derek turns the door handle slowly, and opens the door, inch by inch. The sun is setting outside, and Wow, he was out for a long time, but Derek barely notices. Stiles is standing out on the porch, and he looks weary at Derek. 

“I can _feel_ it, Derek”, he says quietly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far, and thank you for the lovely comments!!! 
> 
> It's not that much left now, so hopefully everything will be posted within a week.
> 
> You might be able to suspect what's in store for the next chapter :)


	11. Chapter 11

Derek just stares at Stiles where he’s standing at the porch. After a while, Stiles steps forward, walking past him and into the living room as Derek follows him with his gaze. Stiles turns around.

“I can _feel_ it, Derek,” he repeats. “I can feel this mating-bond-thing or whatever now.”

When Derek only breathes for an answer, Stiles continues. 

“I don’t know, man. At first I didn’t feel anything. I’m sorry for the picture thing, by the way. I was drunk, and I was just really pissed off at you, and really, you can’t blame me for that one, because it’s really not fair for you to do something like that. Like, when _you_ do things with people it’s totally normal and okay and rainbows and unicorns, but when _I_ do something? You went crazy! With the teeth and the fur and the eyes and everything, and you’re really lucky Andrew was pretty out of it, because _dude_.”

Derek winces at the mention of Andrew, but tries to make Stiles not notice it. 

_I don’t have any right to. He’s right._

“It’s pretty obvious when it happened to you,” Stiles says, and if he noticed the wince, he doesn’t show it. “It was in the exact moment you saw us. It came to me gradually, but it became very clear this morning. Of course, I did some pretty extensive research-”

“ _Don’t talk about this like it’s a medical condition._ ” 

Stiles’ face drains of color at Derek’s sudden eruption. When he speaks again, it’s with a low voice. 

“I even spoke to Deaton. He says it won’t go away, there’s no way to break it, but that I can choose to dismiss it. I can do whatever I want, but I will always feel it.”

Derek’s heart sinks in his chest. He doesn’t need a reminder that _he_ most likely _won’t_ be able to dismiss it. 

“It’s just,” says Stiles defensively when he sees Derek’s reaction. “that I don’t know if it’s real. You know. You can’t hold it against me if I think it’s kind of suspicious that I have walked around thinking of you in a platonic - okay, not _totally_ , I mean, have you _seen_ you? - way like, forever, and then suddenly I feel this _draw_ towards you? Not to mention that you have pushed me around the whole time I’ve known you, and then, suddenly, you want to _mate_ me?”

Derek stares at him, because he gets it, but he still doesn’t know what to do, or say.

“I don’t know if I can believe it’s real, that’s all,” Stiles says. “For all I know, it’s all only because of your freaky werewolf hormones or something. Do you even feel something? Like, not the wolf-y part of you. The just-Derek part of you.”

“Yes.” Derek answers.

Stiles looks at him for a long moment, then takes a step towards Derek. Derek holds his breath and wishes desperately for this to be true, willing Stiles with his mind to take another step, and another. Stiles stops after two steps, with more than two thirds of the way between them left. 

“Would you be able to tell me that you would still even consider this if it wasn’t for the werewolf-thing?” he asks uncertainly but determinedly.

Derek looks down on Stiles’ feet. 

“No,” he breathes and looks up at Stiles again, desperation in his eyes as he sees Stiles begin to move towards the door with an _I knew it_ -expression. 

“But it doesn’t make it less real, Stiles,” he throws out. 

“I’m not good at this.”

“No,” Stiles says, like he’s stating the obvious. “The whole word-thing seems to have slipped right past you. Try anyway, make me _understand_.”

“I don’t know- I can’t-” he tries. “I...”

Derek takes a breath.

“I’m a werewolf. I’ve always been one. That’s real. I can shift into a wolf, and that’s real. I get poisoned by wolfsbane, and that’s real too. It’s who I am, and that’s as much part of me as my opposable thumbs, and...” he trails off. “I need you, Stiles. I do. It’s like not breathing when you’re-” he can’t finish that sentence without sounding like a complete douche. _Angry with me. Not here. Not mine._

Stiles thoughtfully looks at him.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, and walks to the door. “See you around.”

Derek stares after him long after he has closed the door and Derek has heard the Jeep leave the gravel road. He doesn’t know what to feel about this. He settles on the thought that it at least wasn’t a definite no from Stiles. 

 

When the pack comes over Monday evening, Derek can immediately see that Isaac aced the econ-test. He doesn’t brag about it, but Derek can see the pride in him. It’s unusual that Isaac is the best one in the pack in a theoretical subject, so Derek is happy for him. 

_And Stiles_. Stiles is there, and he’s joking around with the rest of them. 

_Maybe this will have to do_ , Derek thinks, seeing Stiles laugh at Scott. _It’s better than nothing._

Derek decides that the pack deserves a night off from the practicing after studying so hard for the test. He doesn’t say that, of course, but he waves them into the living room, where everybody sits down, still bickering and chatting. 

Derek tries to control his heart rate and his heavy breathing as he notices that Stiles is about to sit down beside him at the couch. He can see the rest of the wolves stiffen, as if responding to an unknown threat. He can also pinpoint the exact moment Allison picks up on it and then relaxes and gives Derek a knowing look. He looks away, trying to control the blush he feels creeping up on his neck. 

 

Derek is very aware of Stiles the whole evening. It’s hard, knowing that he isn’t allowed to touch him. He backs away as far as he can without the others noticing, but it doesn’t help much. It’s like the appeal of a big, red, alarm-button: almost irresistible. 

The pack seems to forgive him for his absent-mindedness during the evening. It’s not like he usually talks a lot anyway. When Stiles puts his hand on Derek’s thigh, though, and Derek gasps, the whole room goes quiet. 

“I... I’ll go get something to drink,” Derek huffs and rises from the sofa, looking down, desperately avoiding eye contact.

He walks out to the kitchen and gets glasses and a can of water. There’s only one beer in the fridge, and he rarely has anything else at home. 

When he gets back, everybody takes their glass of water and begins to sip it down. You can almost taste the awkward silence that fills the room. 

“I think I have to go,” Isaac murmurs and moves towards the door without looking at anyone. 

“Me too,” Boyd says, and Erica follows him. 

“Us too,” Allison says, giving Scott a stern look when he tries to protest.

Stiles, quite deliberately, does _not_ leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know what I said about this chapter... but it didn't seem like Stiles to just accept everything straight away. 
> 
> So, yeah.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I wouldn't divide the last bit into chapters, but it's becoming so long compared to the other chapters. So, yeah. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When the others have left, Derek can’t look at Stiles. He knows that Stiles has made some kind of decision, one way or the other, and he knows that Stiles will let him know. Right now, he feels like a deer in the headlight. Of a train. He can’t move, he just feels like something inevitable, and probably fatal, is about to happen. He stares at the floor, trying to keep his breathing even. 

Derek feels a hand on his chest. He didn’t notice Stiles approaching him. He sucks in air like he hasn’t tasted any in years, and looks up at Stiles. Stiles is looking at his hand where it rests on Derek, watching it rise and fall with Derek’s breaths. He closes his eyes, and falls into the same breathing rhythm as Derek. It’s unlike him to just be still like this, without saying anything. Derek slowly grasps Stiles’ hand, and moves it, keeping his grip firm when Stiles flinches, and puts it down right over his heart. Stiles relaxes as his intentions becomes clear, and Derek doesn’t let go of his hand. 

Derek’s heart runs wild when he realizes that Stiles lets him do this, that he doesn’t protest, that he just stands there breathing and feels Derek’s heartbeat under his palm. 

“That’s kind of cheesy, dude,” he says as he looks up at Derek, but continues in all seriousness, “But it’s nice.”

Stiles moves closer to Derek where they stand in the hallway, sliding his arms around Derek’s waist without ever losing contact, and puts his head where his hand was seconds ago, ear against Derek’s chest. 

Derek can’t believe this. It was a long time since he had any human contact at all, and this is Stiles, and he’s _here_ , and he isn’t backing off, he’s getting _closer_.

“Are you kidding?” Derek blurts out, because this must be a trick or something, it can’t _be_. 

“Nope. I feel it, dude,” Stiles answers, still with his cheek pressed to Derek’s heart. 

Derek finally wraps his arms around Stiles, because he thinks he gets to do that now. He almost lifts Stiles as he breathes his scent in through his nose. It’s amazing. He’s smelt Stiles many times before, but never like this. 

“Please be mine.”

Derek can’t stop himself from saying it, knowing that it’s a lot to ask, but being unable to resist.

“I thought about it all night, you know. And,” Stiles lifts his head to look into Derek’s eyes. “- I came to the conclusion that I feel some kind of connection to you. I don’t feel the same when I’m away, I feel better when you’re near. And if that’s gonna be permanent...” He sighs. “If that’s gonna be permanent, I don’t want to be without you.”

A great joy spreads inside Derek, but he can also feel a sting of pain. He doesn’t want to be the one to take away someone’s free will like this. 

Stiles sees it in Derek’s eyes, so he doesn’t have to say anything. 

“I could just walk away. But I have a very hard time imagining I will. I’m here because I want to be here, Derek.”

Derek almost feels ridiculous for the amount of happiness he feels in that moment. He could sing, and dance, and skip, and shout, but he doesn’t, because that’s not something he does so others can see it. 

“You’re wiggling your not-existing-at-the-moment tail, aren’t you?” Stiles asks, before taking Derek’s face between his hands and looking into his eyes. 

“Breathe, you’re gonna faint,” Stiles says a few seconds later, before leaning in and touching his lips against Derek’s. 

A lot is happening in Derek’s mind at once, so he can’t focus on any of it. He moves his lips against Stiles’, he remembers breathing like Stiles told him to, he presses himself tighter against Stiles, _he kisses Stiles, holy shit_. It’s nothing like when he kissed Miguel. This isn’t effortless, this isn’t easy. The wolf doesn’t just lie down, minding it’s own business; it’s there with him, kissing Stiles just as passionately. Derek can feel all the different parts of his mind, his _being_ , align into one, because this is _right_. 

“Breathe through your _nose_. Now. Please,” Stiles gargles into Derek’s mouth. 

Derek does, and flushes.

“Wow,” Stiles says. “Have you ever actually done anything I’ve told you to before?”

Derek grunts and leans down to kiss Stiles again. He breathes through his nose this time, at least when their lips are meeting. Stiles giggles. 

“The whole town is gonna know tomorrow. Your stubble is everywhere.”

“Good,” Derek says and rubs his cheek on Stiles’. 

He proceeds to lick from Stiles’ chin, up on the jaw and to the ear lobe. Stiles makes a small shiver as Derek’s nose grazes upon the helix. He freezes, leaving Derek wondering if he’s done something wrong.

“What is it?” he murmurs.

Stiles hesitates. 

“It’s just-”

Derek begins to fear the worst, that Stiles is getting cold feet. 

“Aw, shit, I just can’t come up with a reason why we should move to the bedroom that doesn’t sound totally needy and slash or pushy and slash or awkward. Or do you prefer somewhere else? Couch? Kitchen table? Bath-, oh, right, you don’t have a tub- eh, shower?”

“Shut up,” Derek grunts and turns around towards the stairs.

_Stiles. Bedroom. Stiles. Bedroom._

“ _What?_ ” Stiles exclaims. “Are you just going to leave me here? You have incredible werewolf strength, _hello_. Carry me.”

Derek really didn’t expect that one, but Stiles in his bedroom sounds great, so if it’s down to him, he’s gonna carry Stiles there. Stiles giggles a bit when he turns around to pick him up.

“Just kidding. I’ll walk. But feel free to do it at any time, if you sometimes think I can’t take a hint.”

Derek feels a low growl in his stomach. He sees Stiles looking at him, a challenge in his eyes. Derek grabs Stiles by the waist and heaves him up on his shoulder.

“Ugh,” Stiles lets out, almost losing his breath with every step Derek takes up the stairs. “It wasn’t exactly this I meant by ‘carry me’.”

Derek turns his head against Stiles’ stomach and breathes in with a smile. He can’t get enough of his smell. 


	13. Chapter 13

Derek puts Stiles carefully on his bed, and Stiles lets out another quiet huff. Derek looks at him, still standing by the side of the bed. Stiles looks back at him, before stretching out a hand to grab Derek’s shirt. He doesn’t need to, though, because Derek is already on his way down to the mattress. 

Stiles rolls over to his stomach and props his torso up on his elbows, leaning over the lying Derek, who moves his hand to grasp at Stiles’ short hair. Derek remembers when it was much shorter than it is now. He prefers it like this. 

Stiles lowers his mouth onto Derek’s, just touching his lips with his own. Derek lifts his head to meet him, to get closer, and lifts his body up to almost lay on top of Stiles’. He holds his weight up, quite far from Stiles’. Partly because he doesn’t want to crush him, partly because he isn’t sure about this. _Is it too soon? Is this going too fast?_

Derek isn’t sure about what he wants most, where the attraction lays. On one hand, he just wants to be close to Stiles, wants to talk to him, protect him, take advice from him, and would be very content with that. On the other hand, Stiles drives Derek mad. _I want to make him scream my name, and I want him to come for me._

It scares Derek a bit, because until very recently, he hadn’t felt any of this. But now he does, and it’s _intense_.

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek, making him come closer. The light touch of lips is more of a wrestling game by now. Finally giving in, Derek lets his body fall down, but a bit to the side of Stiles’, to avoid the crushing. Stiles somehow manages to use the movement to get on top of Derek, sitting on his chest, holding Derek’s arms against the mattress. 

Derek freezes, suddenly beginning to breathe quicker and quicker. He tenses, and then meets Stiles’ eyes, and he sees that Stiles will know what this is about when he sees what is going to happen next. 

Slowly, but determinedly, Derek begins to lift his chin, exposing his throat. It is strange. The instinct has always been strong to protect the throat, just to show it as a sign of submission. As the Alpha, he never bares his throat for anyone. 

He’s still breathing heavily, but when his throat is fully bard to Stiles, he begins to relax, one muscle at a time. Derek glances at Stiles and makes a small nod, barely noticeable.

Stiles, who has read more about werewolves than Derek has in his life, gets it. He looks surprised but honored, as he slowly leans forward and downwards, until he is breathing on Derek’s neck. 

Derek struggles to keep his inhales and exhales steady, tensing more the closer Stiles gets. Suddenly, Derek feels Stiles’ lips on his adam’s apple. They move to the side, closer to the pulse, and Derek lets everything go. Stiles licks his throat, sucks at the thin skin there, scraping his teeth against it. Derek gets dizzy from the feeling of relief, from the feeling of submitting himself to someone who deserves it. 

Stiles leans down even further to increase the surface of body contact, and Derek can feel his cock against his stomach. He shivers, and realizes that he wants it. He wants everything from Stiles. Everything. 

He yanks Stiles up to his lips and kisses him. 

“I want everything,” he groans at Stiles’ lips as he goes up for air. 

“Can you be a bit more specific?” Stiles asks in reply.

“No,” Derek growls.

“Do you have any condoms?”

“No.”

Stiles looks incredulously at Derek.

“Werewolves don’t get diseases,” Derek defends himself.

“They get babies, though,” Stiles rebuts. 

“Kate was a long time ago,” Derek says.

“Really? She was the last one?” Stiles is surprised, and completely thrown off track.

Derek growls at him, dragging him back to more important topics by licking his chin and tugging at the hem of his shirt. Derek’s attempt seems successful.

“Any lube, then?” Stiles breathes into Derek’s mouth as he helps Derek pull his shirt off, throwing it to the floor. Derek feels his dick pressing uncomfortably against the front of his pants. 

“Bedside drawer,” he grunts.

Stiles stretches out, barely just reaching to open the drawer from where he is, and fetches the bottle. 

“Well, I think we should be naked, you know,” he says, trying to sound innocent. 

Stiles crawls down Derek’s body to be able to free him from his shirt, then he unbuttons Derek’s jeans, placing a soft kiss below his belly-button. Derek groans, immediately helping Stiles with the pants, because he can’t stand this anymore. 

Stiles hands grazing over Derek’s erection through the thin fabric of his boxer-briefs feels amazing. Derek feels a growl in his stomach, and the tips of his fingers starts to tingle, wanting to transform into claws. 

As soon as his own pants are gone, he begins to work on Stiles’. He’s anxious to see what he this far has only felt. When he sees it, Derek guesses it is about five inches long, and thicker than he had expected. 

Stiles is now lying on the bed, cock standing almost straight up in the air. Derek is leaning over him, nosing his neck, swiping his hands down Stiles’ shoulders. Derek begins to kiss, lick and bite his way over Stiles’ skin, trying to touch every small surface he can. 

Stiles begins to breathe harder as Derek approaches his groin, and lets out a disappointed whine when Derek continues down his inner thigh. Derek growls at this, making Stiles stay still. He needs to do this, he needs to scent _all_ of Stiles. 

Stiles stays quiet until Derek rips off his socks and starts to suck on Stiles’ toes. Derek has Stiles’ leg lifted, massaging gently at Stiles’ calf as he slips his toes one by one into his mouth. Stiles winces, and tries to reach for Derek with his hands. When he can’t, Stiles sits up and grabs Derek by the neck, dragging him into a kiss. 

Derek can feel Stiles’ hand fondle his dick through his underwear, somehow still on him. 

“Can I fuck you?” Stiles asks with a raspy voice as Derek nuzzles his face into Stiles’ neck in between kisses. 

Derek stills, and then nods with a growl, because _Yes, good idea_. The desperate need he feels for Stiles overweighs the nervousness of having someone up his ass by leaps and bounds. _It’s Stiles._

Stiles pushes at him and puts him with his head on the pillow, facing Stiles. He nudges down Derek’s boxer-briefs and throws them on the floor along with Derek’s socks. Then Stiles spreads Derek’s legs and places himself in between. He leans down, kissing Derek’s stomach, down the trail of hair to Derek’s cock. Derek draws in a sharp breath and feels his eyes turn red as he looks down at Stiles. Stiles is looking up at him, reading Derek’s every reaction. A small part of Derek is jealous because of Stiles’ obvious experience in this, imagining what those lips has been up to before, but most of him doesn’t care about anything other than what is about to happen. 

 

Stiles places his hands around Derek’s erection, caressing lightly as he places his mouth on the head. He releases one hand and grabs the bottle of lube he has been sitting on to warm it up, pouring some in his hand before returning it to Derek’s cock. 

Stiles begins to make steady strokes up and down, looking pleased at the sounds Derek is making. He leans his head down again, licking Derek’s balls and continuing down to his hole. 

At first, it’s just kisses and licks, but then Stiles presses his tongue into Derek. Derek jerks up a bit, surprised by the feeling, but lowers his ass again, signaling Stiles to keep going, that he’s okay. 

Stiles pours some more lube in his hand, then spreads it out over his fingers and Derek’s asshole. He bends Derek’s knees to get better access, and then he slowly pushes a finger inside him. Derek feels his ring muscles tense, not willing to let something foreign in, but forces them to relax. Stiles is still for a while, just caressing Derek’s inner thigh with his other hand, before he starts to move his finger inside Derek. Derek squirms, and after a while, Stiles puts another finger slowly inside him. 

“You okay?” he asks.

Derek can’t say anything, so he just nods, breathing heavily. 

“You’ve never done this.” It’s not really a question, and Stiles already knows the answer, anyway. “Tell me to stop if you have to, and I will.”

Derek nods, but growls and pushes himself further down on Stiles’ fingers to get him moving. Stiles does, and it’s _fantastic_. 

Derek’s cock is still getting harder and harder, and Derek can’t really stand more of it. He reaches down to touch himself, but Stiles stops him. 

“Believe me, you’ll wanna wait,” he says before removing his fingers to apply more lube. 

Stiles presses in his fingers again, now three of them, and Derek feels the burning, stretching sensation increase. He winces. Stiles stills, still reading Derek’s reactions, until Derek relaxes again. Then Stiles begins to separate his fingers inside Derek, stretching him out further to make more room. He begins to pump his fingers in and out, spinning and twisting. When he’s as far in as he gets, he bends them, lightly scraping at Derek’s insides. 

Derek growls, winces, bites his own lip. He really want to touch himself, or Stiles. Preferably both. 

“Come on,” he groans, and Stiles pulls out his fingers and gets up to kiss Derek on the mouth. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, putting his hand on Derek’s hard-on again. 

“Mmmmh,” Derek moans. “Please.”

Stiles kisses him, touching his own erection, coating it with lube. Derek can see him smudge the trail of pre-cum that has run down the shaft. Stiles positions himself between Derek’s legs once more, and nudges the head of his cock against Derek’s ass. 

“Ready?” he asks, and Derek nods.

Stiles parts Derek’s butt cheeks and guides his cock to the hole. Derek can feel it pressing lightly, then more and more. 

Slowly but steadily, Stiles pushes into him. Derek fights to relax and keep his breathing steady, torn between wanting to get rid of the intrusion and wanting more of it. He finds himself being filled with more and more of Stiles. When Stiles is as far in as he can get, he leans forward to kiss Derek. 

Derek grabs his neck and meets his mouth eagerly, feeling the discomfort in the stretching ease. He feels Stiles’ cock move around with the kiss, and it makes him go crazy. 

“More,” he grunts, and Stiles obeys.

He starts slowly, carefully pulling out an inch or so before pushing in again, just as gentle. His thrusts increase in length and speed as Derek moans and squirms around him. 

“Turn around,” Stiles says as he pulls out completely. 

Derek does, chest on the pillow and head to the side. Stiles kisses him on the neck, trailing down his spine. He takes the bottle of lube and squirts some out in his hand, reapplying on his cock before spreading Derek’s legs and separating his butt cheeks again, guiding himself in. 

As Stiles sinks into him, Derek feels a new tingle inside him, one that he’s never felt before. As Stiles continues to thrust, the tingling sensation builds up more and more. He props himself up on his elbows to be able to feel Stiles’ chest move against his back with every push Stiles makes into him. 

Stiles is starting to make an increasingly amount of noise and profanities, and Derek can feel him getting even bigger inside him. Stiles grabs his hips and keeps fucking into him. Derek is aching for something to happen, aching for release, but at the same time he wants this to go on forever. 

“Stiles, I need to come,” he whines, unable to touch his dick in this position.

“Turn to the side,” Stiles huffs, a little out of breath. 

They both turn, without Stiles cock leaving Derek’s body. 

Stiles throws the bottle of lube to Derek and tells him to touch himself. 

It’s bliss, when Derek finally does. Bliss and torture, at the same time, because he doesn’t come straight away. They are both contributing to the pleasure building in the pit of Derek’s stomach.

“Fuck,” Stiles bursts out.

Derek is almost over the edge. A few more strokes to his cock, and then-

Derek sees stars. He’s not sure if he howls or not, but it doesn’t matter. _Stiles, Stiles, Stiles._

He comes all over the sheets, in heavy spurts, and he can feel himself cramping around Stiles’ dick, and Stiles is coming too now, cock twitching in Derek, grunting his pleasure into Derek’s shoulder. Stiles pulls out and wraps his arms tighter around Derek’s torso, bringing himself closer. 

Derek is stunned. 

“Wow,” he says after a while, when both their breathing has evened. 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Stiles breathes. “That was _intense_.”

Derek rolls around, freeing himself of Stiles’ grip before putting himself on Stiles’ back. He hugs him tightly and nuzzles his face into his neck. Stiles is reddening all over his body from Derek’s stubble being ground against it. Derek growls contently at that. 

“So, what happens now?” Stiles asks. 

Derek grunts, slumps his shoulders and continues with his business at Stiles’ neck. 

“I mean, like, is there any rituals or anything? Mating, bonding?”

“Yeah,” Derek says into Stiles neck.

“Okay?” Stiles urges, but when Derek doesn’t answer, he lets it go.

“So you didn’t have a knot, anyway.” Stiles says. 

At that, Derek stills completely.

“You _had_?” Stiles cries out.

“No,” Derek huffs. “It’s only when I’m-”

“Ooh,” Stiles lets out. “You’re _so_ fucking _me_  the next time.”

Derek chuckles into Stiles neck, and Stiles twists around under him so they can kiss. 

“This is good,” Stiles says. 

Derek lets a big smile appear in his face.

“Yeah. It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would like to thank you for reading all the way here, and for all the sweet comments I've gotten during this process. 
> 
> Secondly, I'd like to ask you if you think any additional tags are needed, and if so, could you tell me?
> 
> This fic began with the idea of Derek wanting to get away from all his problems, and therefore stepping into his alter-ego, Miguel. It really wasn't supposed to be this angsty. Or smutty. And sorry if the smut is bad, it's my first time writing any. 
> 
> I'm fairly certain I will continue in this 'verse, so stay tuned for a Part II, or an additional scene or something.
> 
> You're also welcome to chat with me at my tumblr, ignorethyneighbour (yes, the same as here!). 
> 
> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos and commenting. Thanks a lot. It's been a pleasure, and I'll see you around.


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